


Talk Dirty to Me

by Taybay14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:04:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel and Dean are left alone for a few weeks in the bunker, some interesting things happen. My first story that isn't AU. Not set in an exact moment in the show, but some mention of events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**CASTIEL’S POV**

       An empty bottle of whiskey rested on the kitchen table, accompanied by one lonely glass. Papers were spread all over, the brown oak of the table just barely peeking through. I loosened my tie and sighed. The first articles I saw were of a series of murders the next state over. The word “Angels” was scrawled lazily across the top. Another one had “demons” and another and one more. The rest seemed void of any decision.

      I picked up the empty glass, placing it gently in the sink. I wondered how many times I would face this scene again. “Oh Cas.” I heard a low, husky voice moan. I glanced around before realizing the sound was inside my head. “Cas, god Cas, please.” My eyebrows furrowed. The voice was Dean’s, I knew this for sure. I made my way towards his room, but all I could make out was the sounds of his sheets rustling. I stayed until he stopped moving, until the nightmare dissolved.

      I tried to fight the urge to go to him but I couldn’t. I quietly pushed open his door and moved to his bedside. His hair was drenched with sweat, along with his pillow. His back muscles were tight as he rolled over to his stomach. My fingers lightly touched his soft hair, and then traveled down his bare back. He twitched but did not wake. I continued doing this until his muscles completely relaxed. Then I force myself to leave.

 

 

 

 

      “Mornin.” His sweatpants are hanging loosely from his hips. My mouth is dry. “You okay?” I softly laughed. He’s the one with the nightmares, not me. He’s the one disowned from his brother, not me. Although I am too I suppose. Technically my family problems are immense compared to his. And if I could sleep I would have nightmares too. Plus I am irrevocably in love with him, while he still pines for Lisa. So I suppose the answer is no, I am not okay But telling Dean this would just be another worry for him. Another burden. So I smile and say, “yes, I’m okay.”

       He nods as he pours himself some coffee. I smile and ask him how he is. “Fine.” He shrugged, putting the pot back under the machine. “Slept like shit.” This was common , so neither of us acknowledged it. He poured some white whiskey into the coffee cup, my smile slipping.

      “Nightmares again, hey?” I’m not sure why I asked. Most likely because of him calling out for me in the night. A blush crept up his neck and cheeks.

      “Actually, quite the opposite.” A pang appeared in my chest. I wanted to believe that the dream was about me. But it probably wasn’t. The absent flirting between the two of us probably didn’t mean anything. It was probably some sort of dream about Lisa or some other girl. I winked at him and asked who it was about. He stared at me for a moment, licking his lips. I grew hard under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered distractedly, “Uhh, Lisa. It was about Lisa.” I wanted so badly to ask why he was calling for me then, but decided to let it go. It didn’t matter anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

DEAN’S POV

The bunker was eerie and quiet. Sam was out on his own hunting trip and Castiel.. God only knows where he is. I was laying on my bed. MY bed. This makes me smile as I put an old Kansas vinyl in the record player. I think about Cas this morning, his messy hair and loose tie. I wonder what he would look like in my shirt. The thought makes me hard. What thought about him doesn’t make me hard?

I start thinking about my dream from last night. He was gloriously naked, hovering over me. My hands and ankles were bound to the oak bed post. “You have been a very bad boy Dean.” His blue tie was in his hands as he smiled down at me. “You have sinned many times.”

“I’m sorry.” I groan, my dick throbbing. His tie hits my abs hard, the skin stinging. I hiss through my teeth.

“I am sorry what Dean?” He dangles the tie from his fingers, a threat and a promise.

“I’m sorry Sir.” His smile grows wider.

“Shall we go through them Dean?”

“Yes.” The tie bites me once again. “Aagh, yes Sir. I am sorry, Sir. I would like to go through them Sir.” The feeling of being in control left me as I handed myself over to him. It felt so incredibly good to be taken care of. So relaxing. So nice.

“Stealing people’s money. Identities. Cars. Stealing clothes and food.” The tie hits me on my chest this time. “Theft is a sin Dean.”

“Yes Sir. I know Sir. I am so sorry.” It hits the same spot again.

“I am sorry what Dean?” His voice is angry.

“I am sorry Sir.” I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.

“Lying about your identity. Lying about your past, present and future. Lying to friends. Lying to family.” He let that one hang in the air for a moment. We both knew he wouldn’t say lying to Sam. Not out loud.

“Lying about your thoughts, feelings and action. Lying to me.” The tie came down hard on my thigh. His callused hand roughly grabbed my erection. “Do you see this Dean?”

“Yes Sir.” My voice is strangled.

“This means you are lying to me. Lying to yourself. You want this. You want me. Why can’t you admit that Dean?”

“I’m scared Sir.” His eyes soften as he begins lightly massaging my dick.

“Do you want me Dean?”

“Yes Sir.”

“How badly do you want me Dean?”

“So bad Sir.” I buck my hips. “So bad Sir.”

“I don’t believe you.” He takes his hand away. Leaving me to ache for his touch. “You’re a liar. I don’t believe liars Dean.” This time it’s his hand on my inner thigh. It hurts more, sending vibrations to my scrotum. I cry out.

He swirls his pointer finger around my tip, spreading the small beads of moisture.

“Oh God, please.” His blue eyes gaze at me.

“I am not God Dean.” This makes me smile. He’s so adorably serious. “That reminds me though..”

“What reminds you Sir?” He swirls his finger again.

“This.” He continues softly. “It reminds me of another sin. A sin I am upset about, but also conflicted about. A sin I want you to commit with me, but nobody else.”

“What is it Sir?” I already knew, but I wanted to watch his lips form the words. I wanted to hear him say it.

“Intercourse.” Slaps the thigh. “Before.” Slaps the other thigh. “Marriage.” His hand skids across my face. No doubt there is a print left behind. I gasp at the pain and his anger. His eyes look at me, betrayed.

“I am-“ His lips crash into mine, cutting off my apology. His tongue is in my mouth, searching for mine. He pulled away, running his thumb along my lower lip. I am panting.

“That was for intercourse with me.”

“But it’s a sin Sir?” It was a statement and a question.

“We are an exception.” He is not smiling, which worries me. Castiel is definitely not a fan of sin.

“But we haven’t yet.” His hand twitched. “Sir.” I add with a gasp.

“We are about to Dean.”

I begin to touch myself as I remember the dream. My eyes are closed. I pretend my hand is his hand. I picture his lips on my skin, claiming every inch of my body as his own. “Oh Cas!” I groaned, quickening my strokes. I remember the part of the dream with him inside of me. I imagine how good it would feel to have him there. “Harder Castiel. Please. Oh, God.” I all but yell. “Please I need you. I need you to fuck me, please.” I rest my head against the headboard and cry out as liquid fills my hands. I sigh, a soft smile on my lips.

 

 

CASTIEL’S POV

I listen to his exasperated voice as he begs for something I didn’t think he would want. I am standing in the middle of a crime scene, trying to concentrate on the bloodied bodies. He shouts again and I jump. It takes everything I have to stay where I am, telling myself I cannot go to the bunker. I listen to the sound of him coming, everything inside of me unraveling at the sound. An officer makes his way towards me, a large file in his hand. I take it from him, blocking out the sound of Dean panting. Red words were written on the top of each page, all guesses at who was killing every victim. None of the words were right of course, but I give the man credit for trying. I thank the officer before leaving, giving him an empty promise to return the file the next day. When no one is looking I disappear, appearing in the kitchen of the bunker.

Dean is sitting at the table, his shoulders slumped. His clothes are dirty and his hair is a mess. There’s a half full glass of amber liquid beside him. I place the folder in my hands on the table but he doesn’t move. His breathing escalates as he stares at the words of an article. It had only been a few minutes since I heard him jacking himself off. The sudden sour mood makes me sick. I hate how much he hates himself.

“How many?” I ask softly. I feel odd, knowing he’s not aware of my eavesdropping. He takes another sip of his drink before he answers.

“Five.” I sigh, contemplating putting my hand on his shoulder to soothe him. Instead I sit beside him. “What about you?”

He was staring down at the papers till. “Nine.” All the air inside of him puffs out through his lips as his whole body deflates.

“That’s fourteen more today.”

“I know.”

“That makes the count eight hundred and seven.”

“I know.”

“Eight hundred and seven people dead.” He lifts up his face to look at me, his eyes tired and bloodshot. He reported himself, as if the words did not make sense to him. I nodded, slowly gathering the papers. He wiped a stray tear as I placed every scrap of evidence on the opposite end of the table.

“Let it go Dean.” I whisper. I want so badly to hold him and kiss him until he is okay.

“I can’t. We’re doing this. All of this is our fault.”

“Dean this is much bigger than you.” He stood up, shaking his head. With two shaking hands he refills his drink. “You need to relax. Take a break.”

“You know,” He pulls on his leather jacket and grabs the keys, “What I need is a stronger drink.”

“Dean-“ I grab his arm and he yells, “Don’t!” He yanked the front door open, slamming it behind him. I stand there for a moment, stunned. Then I begin to look at the papers again, deciding to wait for him to come home.


	3. Chapter 3

DEAN’S POV

She’s hot. We’re on our seventh round of shots, our second game of pool, and she is hot. Her wavy red hair touches the tan skin just above the waist line of her tight jeans. It did not take long for her to ask if I wanted to go home with her. 

And that’s how we got here, half naked and stumbling through the bunker’s front door. Her lips were traveling along my chest as my fingers fumble with the button of her jeans. I slowly back her up to the edge of the rug, sighing in relief as she crosses over the non-visible devil’s trap. She giggles as I nibble on her ear. 

I sense him before I see him, but I force myself to concentrate on her. She’s working on my belt as I push her towards the hallway. “Oh!” She exclaimed, her face bright red. Castiel stood in the door way, staring at us with a weird look on his face. “I’m sorry.” She said quietly, taking her hands away from my belt. I turn her face towards mine and give her a soft kiss. Pulling her hands back to my waist I whisper, “Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t matter.”

He nodded slowly before giving us a small smile. I pushed her farther down the hallway, every step away from him felt relieving.

“So,” I started as we crashed through my bedroom door. “How do you feel about being tied up?”

 

CASTIEL’S POV

I lay awake in bed for what seems like eternity, listening to the strange girl’s moans and screams. I listen to him moan and pant through the wall, my heart aching with each sound. The voices became dull, and then nonexistent. I waited for them to leave before making my way to the kitchen. I put a pot of coffee on, knowing he’d be looking for a cup when he returned from dropping the girl off.

I hear his voice say my name in my head but I immediately shut it off. I can’t stomach the thought of him talking to her about me. I put all the papers and files in an empty drawer, hoping to help him forget a little.

The coffee pot fills completely as he walks through the door. He grabs a cup from the cupboard and pours himself some, not even acknowledging me. I want so badly to grab his shoulders and shake him. Kiss him. Yell at him. I do nothing. I say nothing.

He drinks the coffee, staring straight ahead. I look at him from where I am standing. Dark red lipstick was smudged on the lobe of his ear and the hollow of his neck. His belt was nowhere to be seen. We stood there in silence while he finished the cup.

“What?” He asked sharply after catching me staring at him.

“I can hear you when you say my name.” I’m not sure what gave me the courage to say this, but it felt good. I was about to get everything off my chest. He rolled his eyes.

“Obviously Cas, that’s how we talk to you when we need you.” He placed the empty cup in the sink and shook his head. “I’m gonna turn in.” He didn’t ask why I was stating the obvious. Didn’t ask how my night was. Didn’t even say goodnight. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. I heard his voice from earlier, telling her “Don’t worry bout it. He doesn’t matter.” He was right, I guess I was just too dumb to see it. I was just some sick fantasy of his, nothing more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I stole part of this (the list) from a post I fell in love with on Tumblr (:  
> Enjoy!!

DEAN’S POV

I’m on my way back from a town a few hours away when it all gets too much . I pull the impala over to the side of the long back road, putting my head in my shaking hands. The images of the piles of dead bodies I just investigated won’t leave my mind. I can still hear the distant cries of the victims’ loved ones. So many people are hurting now, too many to count. Bobby is gone. Kevin is gone. Sam hates me. I can’t be around Cas for more than five minutes without risk of telling him how I feel. I am alone. So alone.

I take a deep, shaky breath. Pulling out my notebook and pencil, I decided to make a list. 

1\. When you want to touch him, keep it to the shoulder. Shoulders are safe.  
2\. Don’t piss him off, remember the Alley  
3\. Actually no, don’t think about the alley  
4\. Don’t think about any of the times he got that close to you  
5\. Said DON’T THINK ABOUT IT GODDAMMIT.  
6\. Yes his tie is always backwards, but it’s not your job to fix it  
7\. It’s not your job to take care of him, he’s an angle. He can take care of himself  
8\. Fuck he’s an angel. You’re going to hell  
9\. Again  
10\. FUCK  
11\. What would dad say? Or Bobby?  
12\. What would Sammy say?  
13\. FUCK  
14\. Why would he want you anyway? What could he possibly see in you?  
15\. Man up Winchester. Just because you’re in love with a guy doesn’t mean you have to act like a girl  
16\. In love..  
17\. FUCK  
18\. FUCK.. I am so in love with him  
19\. Next time you see him, kiss him  
20\. Next time you see him, tell him

I throw it down, rubbing it into the mud with my boot. I stare at it. I pick it up and smoothed it out. I read it again. I take a deep breath. I drive.

 

CASTIEL’S POV

He comes crashing through the door as I finish marking a page with the word “Demons” at the top. He’s out of breath and looks like a mess. Bloodshot eyes stare at me as he fumbles forward. But he’s not drunk, this I know for sure. I shoot up out of my seat, wondering what was wrong.

“Dean, what-“ His lips collide with mine as his fingers twist in my hair. I can’t breathe, which is okay for me but not so much for my vessel. I break away for a breath and notice his face. I stand there, baffled as he falls apart in front of me. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he wipes a small tear from his cheek, “I thought you felt the same.” I quickly realize he doesn’t understand why I broke the kiss.

“Are you kidding. Of course I do.” He looks up at me, his eyes so hopeful and all I can think to do is kiss him. So I do. Because I can. And I don’t stop, because I don’t have to.   
After a long time has passed he whispers against my lips. “Should we talk about this?” I shake my head, our lips still locked.

“Not yet.” I poke my tongue at his and he moans. “Not done.”

He chuckles softly and it’s the best sound I’ve heard in weeks. He guides us to his room but I’m the one who pushes him down on the bed. He’s mine now. All mine.


End file.
